The arcane sconces splashing their lightening azure glow on the walls, basking the circular room in an illumination, the portaling chambers in the Sunfury Spire was filled with soft whispers. A dark red carpet strewn across the floor with intricate blue symbols drawn atop, the walls were covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves snugly packed with tightly bound books and aged scrolls, while several tables were pushed against the shelving; their surfaces littered with parchments and pages. Though the room was enveloped in a dim arcane light, a brilliant and vivid radiance flooded the area from a glowing portal in the middle of the room. The circular enchanted transport system emitting an icy azure, lustrous portal swirling of blue and white was the focal point to the handful of inhabitants occupying the room.

Standing beside the shimmering portal was an older blood elf mage, her purple silk robes billowing around her while she knelt down to inspect the cerulean glowing symbols on the carpet. Her face somber and grave, she held her vital and imperative status as a portal keeper not only in a respectful fashion but also solemn. Briskly tucking her shoulder length blond hair behind her ears, her lips began to move furiously as she whispered several securing and protective enchants while her hovering hand began to trace the large symbol in the air. It seemed the Horde portaling masters were feverously pushing and testing their defensive enchants on their portaling system, hoping to find a weak wall to break down. A self satisfied smile creeping across her features as she finished the last bonds on the portal, she knew their feats and searching would be in vain; she rightfully earned her title.

Content at the extra defensive spells set in place, the gleaming and unyielding symbols showcasing as much, the blood elf pushed herself to her feet with a relaxed and relieved sigh. Glancing at her colleague standing over a desk , his face contorted into concentration and thought as his eyes moved over a piece of paper, she was mutely glad for the slow day. Only a few days ago the portaling chambers were buzzing with excitement and bustling activity, the newly arrived missing elflings coming through the portal. Though their facility was designed to transport such a large party, the two masters had to be sure the defensives and shielding spells didn't waver in their intensity or power; the security and safety of Silvermoon's citizens relied on it. While the occasional mage or traveler would pass through the glowing circle, the leisurely bustle allowed the masters to complete the immense and growing piles of paperwork and ensure the spells on the portal were secure.

A string of whispered words in Common echoing through the nearly silent chambers, the mage turned her head to consider the source.

Leaning against the bookshelves were two males, one human while the other was a fellow Sin'dorei; and one she immediately recognized. Arms crossed tightly over his broad chest, Halduron Brightwing spared a side glance at the human standing beside him before responding in a short whisper. The two men weren't new visitors to the portaling master, she'd seen them at least once a day in the past couple days. There was sometimes a second younger human that accompanied them, however it seemed he was absent that day. Though they arrived in the chambers at a ghastly hour in the morning, their eager and keen eyes darting around the room while they impatiently waited, they rarely stayed longer past noon. Often whispering and muttering to each other, their faces full of concern and worry, the woman knew they had a right for the anxiety.

Moving her gaze to the third visitor in the room, the mage couldn't stop the sad sigh and smile that moved across her face. Leaning against a table in the same fashion as the other men, Tharsis Ares'mar situated himself closest to the glowing portal – a position he assumed for the past few days. While he arrived with the other two men, the commander stubbornly refused to leave the chambers despite the other's futilely trying to convince him otherwise. Leaving for short periods of time throughout the day, he was quick to come back to the room, gluing his eyes on the portal in high hopes for the presence he longed to see. Tilting her head to the side while she considered the man, the mage knew who he sought, her heart going out to him. Only two dozen elflings were returned to their rightful and respective homes – his son wasn't among them.

"Where's Matheus today?" Brightwing whispered to Warren Steele standing next to him as he shifted his weight, eyeing the portal in slight disdain. Over the course of the past few days, he developed a passive hate for the transport system, his soul begging to see a particular blood elf step through.

"At a meeting with SI:7," Warren began, shrugging his shoulders a bit. "He was pissed he couldn't get out if it."

Nodding at the words, the blood elf darted his eyes at the clock nestled on a table amongst the parchment. The placement of the golden hands telling him how late the morning was getting, he had to subdue a small growl that tempted to sweep past his lips. "He's a good friend. Today isn't looking like a good day either though. It's getting late."

Flicking his own eyes to the clock, Warren felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Brightwing was right; the morning was dying fast – as was the prospect of seeing Deimos that day. The written orders to Phobos and the oral commands to Lena echoing in his head, he had low hopes for the return of the boy within the next few hours. Sending word to Phobos to retrieve the young elf in any safe fashion and to ensure his wellbeing, the gnome mage teleported to Theramore the same day; happily finding the allowance of only mage activity allowed in the human city. The orders were explicit: Lena was to meet the two blood elves at the inn in Ratchet first thing in the morning and immediately port back to Silvermoon.

Darting his eyes over to the silent and brooding blood elf a short distance away from them, Warren felt his spirits deplete further at the blank look on Tharsis face. "I'd hate to bring this up but how many days do we give the blood elf?"

Taking a deep inhale of breath at the ominous question, Brightwing wouldn't deny he wondered the same thing. "I'm not sure. I guess until we hear from Phobos or Lena next."

Pursing his lips at the simple answer, the human knew he couldn't demand any more from his friend. Both were itching with anxiety and apprehension, the excruciating wait of the unknown ebbing away their patient facades. Surprisingly, Warren shockingly admitted that it was neither of them that seemed the utmost worried or vexed as they wearyingly stood in the portaling chambers waiting. Slowly moving his gaze from the glimmering yet bleak port, the man rested his eyes on the Sin'dorei commander. Regardless of his pleas and forced words of assurance, Tharsis obstinately refused to leave the chambers in high hopes of his son arriving at an unscheduled time. Though Brightwing was quick to point out that Phobos was one to follow orders and procedure, it did little to deter the firm and unwavering resolve in the elf. Leaving only a handful of occasions throughout the day, Tharsis was sure to assume his stiff and unyielding stance in the room, his steadfast gaze unmoving from the portal.

Feeling a pair of eyes burning into him, Tharsis forced his gaze from the portal to inspect the source. Meeting the level and blank stare of Warren, he held the look for a second before turning his attention back to the swirling mist he was so accustomed to. His mind was solely dominated and focused on the annoying and obstinate portal, his inner self willing that damned thing to shimmer with life and display the blood elf he waited so patiently for. And while he typically wasn't a tolerant or enduring person, he used all his self control to do so. The long and grueling hours of waiting not quite enough to deter his determination and fortitude, Tharsis vowed to keep a watchful eye on the portal.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the commander still held onto a strong and burning hope that Deimos would arrive at any moment, simply waiting for the familiar increase in illumination preceding his arrival. The order hastily sent to his nephew days ago and receiving a complying response back, Tharsis was slightly frustrated at the sincere lack of further correspondence from his lieutenant. While he had full confident in Phobos' abilities, the paladin rightfully earning his officer rank, the taxing and difficult unknown of the situation placed him in an uncanny situation. For the past two decades, the commander controlled nearly all aspects that concerned his son's life and wellbeing, the past few months being the break in the habit. First beginning with his juvenile and fool escapades in Stormwind City, Tharsis had hoped to gain a better control and grasp on the boy upon demanding him home. And once it seemed he not only directed Deimos' life but also began to reevaluate and construct their shaky relationship, the young elf was ruthlessly ripped away once again.

The quick whispers reaching his pointed ears, Tharsis easily disregarded the two other men sharing words. Though he still loathed the human race with a great intensity, he couldn't deny the immense and unparalleled help Warren and Matheus offered him in locating Deimos. Sadly, he had to come to terms that by utilizing a vast amount of outside assistance he was able to get this close to bringing his son home. Living by a personal decree to oversee or complete tasks first hand, accepting and relying on the help as blindly as he did felt foreign and bizarre; especially by others not Sin'dorei.

Seeing movement in the corner of his view, Brightwing and Warren fidgeting their stances impatiently, Tharsis conditionally assumed the morning was growing late and the two men would take their leave. Of course, they would saunter over and attempt to convince him to depart with them, though each knew the answer to such pleas. His eyes slowly moving down to the scarlet shag carpet in deep thought, Tharsis couldn't quite bring himself to leave the chambers during the daylight. While he'd go home for rest at the late hours, he was sure to stand watch during the day. He'd wait for the return of his son, ensure he was in a state of wellbeing, then promptly commence a long and lengthy lecture on their way to the healing ward. Having a great deal of time to ponder the future actions, the commander had already worked out how the discussion and lecture would pan out.

Naturally, the boy would be quiet and silent, either from proper obedience or pure fatigue, for the duration of the lecture. His mind wishing to start the speech in several different routes, the commander was resolved to first express his sincere disappointment and displeasure with him, the paladin plainly disrespecting his rule to not walk into Murder Row. Seeing the turn out in his thinking mind, Tharsis could already picture Deimos' fallen and saddened features at the words, knowing his son's burning desire to consistently please him and gain his acceptance would be the ultimate source for a debasing punishment. Upon ensuring the boy had a clear understanding of how incensed he was, the elder Sin'dorei decided he would then begin his crisp and stern lecture of how stupid and thick his son could be at times, obviously disregarding not only his own wellbeing but also Elik's with his faulty and dire behaviors. Hopefully reaching the healing ward while in the midst of that portion of the lecture, he assumed the remainder of the punishment would have to wait till after Deimos was brought to full health.

One thing was for certain: after the past week of inadequate sleep and the vast amount of hours of anxiety and anticipation, Tharsis had full intent to make it clear how much of a hassle the ordeal had been.

"Ah ha! I had cognizance that the last subdivision of the ritual was my preconceived notion. Well no matter, we've arrived with inconsequential grazes."

"You brought us to Darnassus."

"The differing words between the two metropolises are quite homogenous in the portaling ritual. And are you acquainted with the knowledge that Sin'dorei and Kin'dorei share a venerable blood line?"

The two voices filling the once near silent chambers with a strident and loud resonating noise, Tharsis snapped his head up in attention at the familiarity. Though his body was beginning to feel the repercussions of his sleep disruptions, he felt a boisterous and vigor energy drive itself through his limbs and system, his adrenaline pumping hard in his veins. Moving his gaze up, the commander first laid eyes on the source of the duo of voices, his heart beginning to pump harder in recognition and fulfilled hope.

Standing beside one another, Phobos' frustrated and irritated stance showcased his sincere annoyance at the small mage next to him. Arms crossed tightly over his chest, the lieutenant sent a heated and incensed glare to Lena, who innocently gazed back with wide blue eyes. While her counterpart felt wronged in some fashion, her trademark wide smile and cheerful expression didn't waver in its strong intensity and strength. Moving his eyes from the two having a silent staring battle, Tharsis darted his gaze to the third presence, his breath hitching in throat at the vision.

Wearing a black cloak accented with silver trim, the edges stained in brown dirt and sand, Deimos stood off set from the gnome and older paladin, his position slightly to the side of the glimmering portal. Arms hanging flaccidly at his sides, the boy didn't seem to take much heed or notice to the bickering beside him, his gaze darting around the room in an examining manner. Pushing himself off the table and standing to his full height, his mind fully attentive, Tharsis systematically scanned his eyes down his son's body; a subconscious and paltry paternal instinct taking precedent over his disbelief. Though the concealing and darkened cloak covered the paladin's body, the commander was quick to take notice of the fatigued facial features, grim coated hair, and few abrasions marking his dirt stained face. Though the tiredness swirling in his emerald eyes and slight sway to his stance was disheartening in the least, it did little to extinguish the swelling relief and contentment in Tharsis at seeing Deimos standing before him.

His attention solely focused on his son, Tharsis surprisingly became aware of himself unknowingly walking forward towards him. His movements pulling the silent and spent paladin's attention, the commander felt his feet turn to lead and his muscles knot themselves up as a pair of similar green eyes turned to meet his stunned gaze. Both standing unmoving and stationary , their eyes sharing a small exchange of silent words, the elder felt his mind beginning to go numb and blank, his predetermined and fixed lecture escaping his thoughts at the face he longed to see.

Forcing his throat to swallow the growing immense lump in his sore and parched throat, Deimos kept his tired and worn gaze on his father standing a mere few feet before him. Upon Lena meeting the two paladins at the inn, claiming she was conducting the ritual to Silvermoon City, the trio were displeased and quite surprised to find themselves in the lustrous capital of the Night Elves, the blood elves immediately taking a defensive stance. Though the two races were officially aligned, a lifetime of conditioning to despise and loathe the Kin'dorei dominated much of their minds and actions, Phobos regretfully getting into a verbal altercation with the portaling master. Admitting she never successfully accomplished a portal to Silvermoon, Lena was resolved to find the issue with her ritual and to the reason behind the ill-attempted portal. Though she claimed it would only take a mere minute, the blood elves were forced to impatiently wait for several hours.

Trying to wet his cracked lips coated in dried blood and grainy sand, the infuriating lack of moisture making the action futile, Deimos considered his father waiting before him. Logically the elder Sin'dorei would be quick to commence a long winded and demeaning lecture, a notion that made the young elf's spirits drop only slightly. He'd been prepared for such. However, the significant and uncanny silence billowing between them, the paladin was quick to capitalize on it. Perhaps if he could get in a sincere and brisk apology, his father would be willing to condense his punishment.

Taking an unsteady step towards the waiting commander, Deimos felt his resolve quickly slipping away as he gazed into the other elf's face. "Ann'da…I know what I did-I was stupid. I'm sorry."

His throat raspy and abrasive, the words came out as such. Tharsis, however, simply blinked at him, the shaky words not registering on his solemn face. His chest rising and falling heavily several times while he forced his respiration to calm, Deimos briefly considered taking another try at the swift apology; though he had a notion his words would have little to deter the inevitable punishment. Upon being kidnapped and dragged all over Azeroth, he could only fathom the trouble the commander went through to track him down and ensure his safe return. In the past twenty years, he could only recollect doing a handful of more foolish actions as well as the swift and harsh lecture that quickly followed. Though he assumed the elder elf would allow the healers to bring him to full health before beginning a physical reprimand, he knew a verbal lecture would be quick to commence.

Beginning to open his mouth to voice yet another apology or explanation, Deimos was caught offguard when his grave faced father moved with precise and quick movement before him. Had he been fully rested and restored, the paladin might have flinched or moved out of the way of the commander, though his body simply wasn't heeding to his reflexes. Instead, he was both dismayed and surprised to find his limbs unresponsive and unmoving at the quick movement before him. Expecting a harsh backhand or perhaps a vice grip to his arm, Tharsis' action left the young elf shocked.

Strong and firm arms wrapping around his frame, Deimos was left speechless at the tight and unyielding embrace from his father. A large lump unexpectedly forming in his throat, he repeatedly swallowed in a poor attempt to rid the effects he felt creeping up on his spent body. Though the elf opposite him was sturdy and secure, he felt his calm façade dissolve to nearly nothing at the protecting and soothing hug. His chest swelling with a bustle of strong emotions, the young elf no longer harbored the strength or energy to keep them in check, his eyes beginning to sting and the lump in his throat increasing.

Mutely aware of a soft wetness on his cheeks, Deimos eagerly returned the embrace, his mind and soul relishing the soothing sensation that blanketed him. While he felt weak, tired, and worn, the elder elf before him was the near opposite; his presence both mentally and physically empowering. Closing his eyes at the warming feelings of being secure and protected, notions he sincerely lacked in the past week, Deimos allowed several streams of water to cascade down his face. He was home and safe.

The warming and strong embrace quickly breaking, Deimos blinked as Tharsis' face came into focus; the elder Sin'dorei pulling away with a resolute and concerned look on his face. Resting his heavy hands on top of the paladin's shoulders, his gaze darting over the fatigued elf, the commander released a deep yet relieved breath of air as he considered the shorter elf. "How do you feel?"

The arcane lights glistening off the moisture on his cheeks, Deimos took a shaky and unsteady swallow, his soul still soaring in pure bliss at the security, though his voice was uneven and trembling. "Ok. I'm pretty tired."

His face darkening for a beat, Tharsis didn't have to call the boy out on his fib to know the truth. Allowing his gaze to firm significantly, he increased his grasp on the paladin similarly. "Do not ever do this again."

His breathing coming in at a more level and even pace, Deimos nodded his head briskly at the words; slightly surprised at the atypical smoothness to the tone. "I won't."

The quiet and tremulous response doing little in terms of calming his nerves, his mind unable to remember what he wanted to say to his son, Tharsis found his actions and words dominated by a much more subconscious and bizarre part of him. Narrowing his gaze in on shorter elf's face, he didn't spare much attention to the other presences in the room. "When I explicitly tell you not to go somewhere, you best follow my orders to perfection from now on. Am I understood, Deimos?"

Forcing a heavy and large swallow at the strict words, Deimos quickly offered a nod of his head in reply. Staring back at his rigid and stern father, the young elf would swear that while the voice was severe and exacting, he depicted strains of concern and anxiety in the tone; a pairing that seemed alien yet promising coming from the commander.

Sighing as the forceful grasps on his shoulders were lifted, Deimos spared a curious glance to the side when gentle whispered voices reached his pointed ears. His face relaxed and calm, Warren gingerly knelt down to the short level of the gnome, the two exchanging quick words of pleasantries before Lena offered the commander an explanation for their belatedness. Moving his tired gaze from the duo, the young elf rested his eyes on the second source of voices emitting from two Sin'dorei standing beside the doorway. His tone significantly quieter than the human and gnome, Brightwing softly exchanged words with a calmer looking Phobos, his cousin nodding his head briskly every so often. His watchful gaze moving over his cousin's rigid and firm stance, Deimos felt a small smile grace his feature. While he had no reservation or doubt that the driving energy behind his rescue was credited to his father's unyielding resolve, it seemed it encumbered a vast number of individuals. Though he didn't know the full extent of the search party or what it entailed, he could only fathom the troubles his friends and family were forced to endure.

A strong yet tender grip on his shoulder ripping him from his reverie, Deimos snapped his attention to his father.

His hand not releasing his grasp on the boy, Tharsis brought his other to gesture to the doorway to the portaling chambers. "Let's get you to the priests. I assume Phobos treated you last night?"

Nodding at the words, his meager reserve of energy in his body dwindling fast, the young elf gingerly and delicately followed his father across the threshold, the grip on his shoulder offering meager support. "Yeah. I'm just really tired and thirsty. Maybe I could go home tonight."

"You'll stay in the healing wards as long as the priests deem fit."

Struggling with himself not to roll his eyes at the exasperating and frustrating words, Deimos had a small inclination that the elder elf would be steadfast and obstinate in his fortitude. And yet, the paladin couldn't quite bring himself to fullheartedly grow incensed with his father's stubbornness. The typically overbearing and dominating decree, strangely enough, filled the young elf with a sense of warming security and blanketing safety; sensations he longed to feel for days. Perhaps more uncanny, he couldn't quite subdue the warmth at knowing who the emotions emitted from.

Watching Tharsis pull back the silks in the doorway with his free hand to the side, Deimos felt an intense and observing gaze bore into him. Snapping his jade eyes to the source standing several paces away, he felt a small grin creep on the corners of his mouth. Staring back at him, his own knowing smile beaming on his face, was Brightwing. His gaze locked on the ranger-generals grinning and restful features, Deimos had to remind himself to begin walking beside his father through the doorway. Giving a small yet revering nod of his head at the young elf, Brightwing's eloquent and shrewd grin didn't waver in its intensity.

Blinking at the gesture, Deimos wasn't allowed much time or attention to consider to the elder elf, Tharsis' firm and steady grip keeping him moving forward. His bare feet not making a sound on the polished shining marble floor, he silently walked beside his father down an immense and elaborately crafted corridor. Spending a vast amount of time in the Sin'dorei palace, the young paladin was grossly acclimated to the lush and intimidating feel the Spire offered to the inhabitants that ventured its halls. Strangely enough, however, he found his eye catching the smallest and minute details; the intricate woodwork in the arches or the pattern of golden accents on the benches. Though the aspects hadn't been touched since he could remember, he savored the beautiful Sin'dorei architecture and impressive designs.

While the hand on his shoulder ought to have sparked a sense of panic or fright at the uncanny close proximity of the commander, years of harsh and debasing punishments dictating as much, Deimos found himself leaning into the touch. His fatigued mind relishing and savoring the sense of protection, his body was slightly thankful for the aid in support.

The days in the Sin'dorei capital were beginning to get shorter, the sun retiring behind the purple and blue horizon at an earlier hour only to blanket the city in whispered darkness. Accompanying the change was also a steady drop of temperature, the harsh elements of winter encompassing the metropolis and the citizens unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire. Thick wool cloaks were seen on nearly all the elves bustling about the cobblestoned streets, the city guardians adorning themselves in similar regalia in an effort to shield themselves from the frigid winds.

Snapping his gaze up as a loud hum of wind crashed into the side of the house, Tharsis was ripped from his thoughtful reverie. Blinking in surprise at the disruption as he craned his neck to glance out the window, he wasn't the least surprised to find the trees outside standing tall and strong. The tough enchants on their limbs and leaves would protect their integrity from the severe elements. The hovering pots of a mixture of colorful flora didn't waver or shake in the wind, the fervent flow of arcane holding their steadfast strength.

Sighing at allowing the random noise interrupt his work, Tharsis glanced down at the stack of papers before him. An increase of Horde activity surrounding Dustwallow Marsh had seemed to draw attention from several Alliance officers, their reports pleading for assistance in the matter. Theramore still recovering from the unexpected and dire raid only weeks prior, the Alliance regime stationed in the region were naturally weary and cautious, their diminutive numbers heeding such. Though Tharsis displayed his passive reluctance to consider deploying the company on a mere and overprotective request, his commanding officer seemed adamant on insisting his consideration. The sense of urgency in the Alliance's report clearly exaggerated, Tharsis found the stack of papers detesting as it were.

Slowly leaning back in his chair, the Sin'dorei gave a bushed and tired glance around the silent library. While he sometimes relished and basked in the rare quiet environment, he found neither comfort nor bliss in the void of movements and noise; his keen hearing not detecting any other sounds in the dwelling. Lifting a sculpted and curious brow at the notion, Tharsis spared an inquisitive gaze to the posh and lavish golden clock nestled amongst the papers that littered his desk. Taking in the placements of the immaculate hands, he felt his brows burrow together in slight perplexity and inner turmoil. Both quite surprised and somewhat dismayed with himself at allowing the entirety of the day slip by, the hour for dinner vastly approaching, Tharsis took a resolved and determined breath of air in as he pushed himself up from the chair. His boots emitting a small clatter off the glimmering marble floor, he made his way across the library with quick and precise footsteps. Pushing the colorful silks hanging in the doorway to the side, the commander forced his body to take a deep and relaxing breath as he turned towards the winding ramp to the upper regions of the house, his mind running through the last day's events.

Two days ago he left Deimos in the careful and helpful hands of the priests and was forced to endure yet another segment of questioning and blind waiting. Sitting outside the enchanted healing room, a position he unfortunately was in only recently, he utilized his few reserves of patience and serenity. Fortunately for him, and the priests that bustled around him, the waiting wasn't long. A small and calm smile gracing his features, Aldrae emerged from the room to inform the waiting commander of the good news; Deimos would be fine.

Shaking his head in silent contemplation of the memory, Tharsis slowly made his way up the smooth and marbled ramp, his hand sliding across the polished golden railing. The priests ensured the commander of the paladin's wellbeing, his handful of maladies not life threatening in the least, but insisted the young elf spend the night in the Spire for observation purposes. Though Deimos displayed his reluctance to heed the request, Tharsis was more adamant and persevering on the order.

His footsteps slowing slightly as he reached the top of the second floor, Tharsis glanced down the hallway, his eyes inspecting the layers of silks hanging in his son's doorway. Though he couldn't quite suppress feelings of disappointment and trivial frustration at the sincere lack of movement behind the fabric, he couldn't bring himself to dwell on such sensations. A day ago, upon bringing a tired and lethargic Deimos back to the house, the commander wasn't surprised to find the boy willingly going to his bedroom. The last sound of activity from the room coming from a brisk shower, the paladin was fast asleep in only a matter of minutes. Over the course of the past day, Tharsis spared several trips to the silent bedroom, the slumbering and still elf remaining unmoving. Reaching the doorway to the bedroom, Tharsis didn't give his actions a second thought when he pulled the silks to the side and proceeded to enter the room.

Similar to his other visits to the bedroom, the area was enveloped in a deep and heavy silence; a soft and steady respiration the only source of noise. Immediately turning his gaze to the rounded bed, the cascading blue silks around the head of the bed not impeding his ability to inspect the inhabitant, Tharsis narrowed his eyes on the sleeping paladin. Lying on his stomach with the frostweave blanket pulled up to his shoulders, mounds of soft and delicate pillows around him, Deimos was enveloped in a deep and profound slumber. Making his way towards the bed, his hand pushing the silks back to gain a better view of his son, Tharsis shifted his weight from one foot to the other in swift contemplation. His examining and questioning gaze running over the young elf's latent features, his decision was easy.

Lightly placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, Tharsis gave the sleeping elf a tender yet firming nudge. His eyes watching his son's face for a sense of coherence and awareness, he gingerly increased the intensity of the shaking. Pulling his hand away when the paladin gently shifted his body, his face flinching slightly, Tharsis waited several beats to determine if a more pronounced prod was needed. A small and tired moan reaching his ears, the commander unwearyingly waited while wakefulness slowly seeped into the young elf's body.

His mind muddled and somewhat confused, a warming and blissful comfort encompassing his form, Deimos reluctantly cracked his emerald eyes open. Blinking several times at the sheer fatigue that plagued his body, his extremities and limbs still harboring a slight ache to them, the paladin felt a small groan pass through his lips. Feeling a set of eyes on him, he forced his body to comply with his wishes and prop himself up on an arm. Alertness still not fully dawning on him, he slowly turned tired and bemused eyes to the side of him, finding the source of his sleep disruption.

Arms crossed over his chest, his face solemn and passive, Tharsis eyed the somewhat coherent and awake boy. Moving his gaze over the young elf, he was content to find the few bruises and abrasion that once marred his features gone, his face looking clean and refreshed from his shower the day prior. "How do you feel?"

Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Deimos allowed a beat to pass while he considered the question. While he had a slight twinge in his muscles and his mind felt fairly faint, the most profound discomfort came from a twisting and uncomfortable pain in his stomach. "Better. I'm pretty hungry though."

The commander nodded at the words. "I figured you would be. You've been asleep for the past day."

Blinking at the response, a sense of disbelief filling his mind, Deimos craned his neck to spare a glance out the window. An early evening sunlight flooding the room, he had a trying time fathoming how a day passed by when he felt he only sleep for a mere few hours. Turning his attention back to his father, the older elf still standing patiently with a somber expression, the paladin slowly pushed himself to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. "Huh. And I can probably keep sleeping."

Taking in the slightly abrasive and scratchy voice, Tharsis could only assume the effects of the severe dehydration and heat exhaustion would take more time to recover from. While the priests ensured the boy was at full health, they also informed the commander to expect residual effects from the maladies, which would dissipate slowly thereafter. "You got a nice tan out of this disaster."

Glancing up at the response, sensing the sarcasm dripping off the words, Deimos was taken by surprise and conditioned concern when the older elf moved forward and slowly assumed a sitting position beside him. While he unconsciously felt himself shy away from the elder elf's close proximity, a small yet profound voice in his being was begging for him to calm. The polar opposite emotions leaving him bemused and unsure, a recollection of harsh punishments and the memory of the warming embrace contrasting brutally, he was surprised to find it quite easy to calm and consider his father.

A small and tired smirk going across his face, Deimos glanced down at his naked arms from his short sleeve night shirt. "Now I just look dirty. It'll fad fast."

Eying the young elf's face, a lingering exhaustion evident in his eyes, the commander was satisfied to find the once haggard and spent features gone. Giving a long sigh, he felt a small smile spread on his face. "Doesn't Stormwind get more sun than here?"

Snapping his head up at the minute and quiet response, slightly bemused and puzzled behind the cryptic meaning, Deimos imploringly eyed his father. "Stormwind?"

Turning his gaze downcast, running his fingers over the delicately woven frostweave coverlet, Tharsis heaved a deep and thoughtful sigh. An eerie and uncanny silence enveloping the house in the past day, the ability to contemplate came easy; as well as musing the past few weeks. His chest rising and falling with another heavy breath, his mind attempting to organize his floating and tousled thoughts, the commander took a deep swallow; the malingering and surprising anxieties dissipating.

Moving his resolved stare back to his questioning and inquiring son, he felt an inner and profound turmoil in his chest beginning to rise, his being forcing the words to form; words he mulled over and contemplated for hours. "Deimos, in my life, I've only been truly and sincerely happy twice."

Involuntarily shifting his body on the bedside, the grave and solemn words striking a cord, Deimos glanced warily at his father. The only emotion he'd typically see from the elder elf being anger, it seemed the conversation was headed into uncharted waters. Unsure if perhaps he was meant to divulge or give a shaky opinion on his father's uncharacteristic demeanor and words, the paladin was greatly relieved to find him continuing.

"The first time was on my wedding day." Pausing as an onslaught of joyous memories and elated emotions stormed his being, Tharsis mentally cursed himself for bringing up the occasion; years of forcing back the memories behind a fortified wall disregarded. Taking a steady and even gulp of air, mentally subduing the recollections once again, he unknowingly glanced down at the gold band on his left finger. Forcing himself to turn his gaze back towards his son, who continued watching him silently, the commander was mindful to keep himself on track. "The second was when your mother told me she was pregnant with you."

The firm and intense gaze boring into him, Deimos felt a slight discomfort at the unfamiliarity and strangeness of the situation. While he had a silent and continued puzzlement in regard to his departed mother, the elder Sin'dorei not divulging much to him, he had enough knowledge that her unexpected death devastated his father. Depicting a minute and aberrant shakiness to the commander's tone, it only left the paladin in more bewilderment. Opening and closing his mouth several times as if willing a response to magically form on its own accord, he was dismayed to find himself dumbfounded at finding an appropriate answer. Years of being on the receiving end of cruel words and demeaning punishments left him the idea that his father wasn't the least bit happy with his presence.

"Your mother-she…" Angrily pausing in his speech as an unexpected wavering mysteriously crept into his voice, Tharsis allowed himself a second to attempt to get his emotions in check. Though conditioned alarms were sounding in his head to immediately desist the conversation, he refused to heed them. He was stirring up both painful yet joyous memories, his emotions in a conflicting war with one another at which to dominate his thoughts. Feeling a small and poignant smile go across his face, he didn't have to question which was triumphant. "She was so happy when she found out. And I was thrilled to be getting a son."

Shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, his palms beginning to sweat at the odd conversation and uncertain direction, Deimos was resolved to keep his gaze downcast on the blanket under him. Finding the intricate and delicate trim on the frostweave coverlet increasingly interesting, his promptly ignored the set of eyes firmly boring into him, a disheartening thought skirting his mind. If his father was once so excited and happy for his presence, perhaps he failed to live up the commander's preconceived expectations; his letdown as a son fueling his harsh upbringing. A constant and longing strive to consistently appease the elder elf, he felt his heart nearly plummet into his stomach at the sickening thought.

"Both me and your mother… we wanted you to be smart yet fair; qualities your mother had." A particular humorous memory surfacing to his mind, Tharsis felt the grin on his face grow. Though he immediately fell in a painful love with her from first glance, courting her was perhaps more trying that managing his entire regime. "We hoped you'd be strong and healthy, both physically and mentally. I wanted to raise you as a warrior, but your mother wanted you to study in Dalaran . I guess neither one of us won."

Blinking at the lighthearted and somewhat distracted tone, Deimos was sure to keep his gaze focused down at the blanket, his digits grazing over the soft trim. While he was hearing an immense amount of information pertaining to his mother, he couldn't bring himself to hold the firm stare from his father. The direction for the uncanny conversation was an enigma; he was fully prepared for a lengthy and longwinded lecture. The heartfilled words were the least of his expectations. Though, buried deep within his muddled and questioning thoughts was a billowing and warming sensation beginning to swell.

"She was always adamant on having you receive a good education and I wanted you to have the best training." Pausing as his small and reminiscent smile slowly faded from his face, a darkness sweeping over his features, Tharsis took a deep breath of air. Narrowing his eyes on his son's downcast face, not bothering to take heed in his failure to maintain eye contact, the commander set his jaw in determination. "Above all else, we both wanted you to be happy. And though I don't care that I disregarded her wish for you to waste your days in the academy, I regret that you're unhappy."

Darting his gaze up from the blue fabric, Deimos moved shocked eyes moved over the poignant commander's face. "Ann'da, I'm-"

Quickly lifting a hand to hush the boy, Tharsis' strong will and firm resolve didn't waver. "Deimos, I planned on training you to be a soldier before you were born. What I didn't plan on was raising you alone. When your mother died, I-" Stopping to take a deep breath, his struggling mind battling back the wave of hurtful and unpleasant memories from the horrendous day, Tharsis forced his thoughts to stay focused. Though he spent hours mulling over the course and direction the conversation would go, it seemed the dedicated time did little in terms of calm his wits. "I was…I didn't know what to do. I was mourning when I should've been happy. And I took it out on you."

The words, though carrying through the air with a slight shakiness, left Deimos in slight awe and astonishment. While he created his own assumptions for the reasoning behind his upbringing, attributing majority of it to the death of his mother, he was always left with an uncertainty. Perhaps the demanding orders and cruel training were a result of his failure as both a soldier and a son, his soul shuddering at the notion. The unusual tone and words from the commander, however, elated his being, unanswered and unsure questions rushing to the forefront of his eager mind.

"I know you're not content here; in Silvermoon or with me. And though I kept you unhappy the first twenty years of your life, the least I can do is give you the opportunity to go where you are happy." Taking a large swallow, a slight sliver of his stubborn pride being forced down, Tharsis was sure to keep his level gaze locked onto Deimos' inquiring and somewhat stunned eyes. "It's obvious that there are people in Stormwind that care about you. They spent hours with me tracking you down and risked their lives looking for you. And while I don't particularly like humans, I'll respect that you do. Be as it may, I will give you my permission to go to Stormwind…permanently."

Unable to hold the stare with his son any longer, his swelling reluctance at the situation threatening to spill from his mouth, Tharsis sent his gaze to the side. Moving his eyes over the adjacent wall, his stare lingering on the neat row of sharpened swords resting on pegs, he was sure to keep his mouth clamped tightly shut. Though he strongly contemplated and decided on the decision hours ago, a profoundly obstinate voice was screaming in his head to reconsider. Sure, he felt surprising and sincere remorse at depriving the boy of a joyous life, but perhaps Stormwind wasn't the solution. Could he not provide a more meaningful life for his son under his watch? Perhaps it was the notion that someone else could offer him a better lifestyle that bothered him so. Though he could search the corners of Azeroth and beyond and subdue physical harm that would come to Deimos, he simply failed at supplying the emotional wellbeing he ought to get. While he was a successful commander, he simply fell short as a parent.

Upon finding Deimos at Stormwind and his keenness at falling comfortably into the human capital, Tharsis couldn't deny that he felt a sharp pang of discomfort. At first thought, he assumed it simply attributed to the fact that his son so readily accepted the foreign race, despite past history and strained relations. Upon further examination and deep contemplation, he was stunned to realize it didn't matter which race or capital the boy would have chosen to reside in over Silvermoon. It was the mere fact that Deimos had longed for something, despite its unfamiliarity and foreignness, over his home and father. Upon further reflection, however, Tharsis couldn't quite blame the paladin. And that harsh and bold realization was perhaps more hurtful than knowing his son wished to live elsewhere.

"Ann'da," a small and quiet voice began, the word coming out carefully. "I-I don't want to live in Stormwind. I want to stay here."

Snapping his eyes back to face his son, Tharsis' surprised gaze met Deimos' soft and patient one. The questioning and bemused expression gone, the boy's features were more calm and relaxed, a slight eagerness shining in his emerald eyes. Simply dumbfounded at the reaction, prepared for false gratitude at giving him what he sought, the commander quickly attempted to mull over the response in his mind. "I'm allowing you to go to Stormwind. I've already talked with Steele and he's happy to have you stay with him."

Digesting the words and the confused tone, Deimos took a deep sigh. While his father was right in all respects with his longing to return to the human capital, he simply couldn't bring himself to accept the offer. If the horrendous and trying experience in the past few weeks left him with anything, it was the reassurance of where he truly called home and who he relied on. While a protesting voice in his mind berated him for turning down the proposal, the greater part of him felt content and at ease in his decision.

Glancing around himself, his eyes taking in the used and broad swords and neatly organized desk against the wall, he swept his gaze around the area. The room typically well-groomed and upkept, the blanket on the bed was disheveled and untidy, while the mounds of pillows were randomly assorted on top. Moving his eyes down to the side of the bed, it seemed in the midst of his sleep he pushed some pillows off the bed, several pieces of bedding littering the usually clean floor. About to turn his gaze back to his father, a minute yet familiar object laying with the forgotten pillows on the ground caught his eye. A small grin spreading on his face, Deimos moved his stare from the stuffed pandaren to Tharsis.

Opening his mouth, the young elf carefully chose his words. "Thanks for the offer but, I'd like to stay here. Sometimes your high standards are annoying and the bedtime could definitely change, but I like living here. And since I came back from Stormwind, well, I've liked being here. I like being with you."

Swallowing deeply at the response, in slight awe at the near opposite reaction he was expecting, Tharsis tilted his head as he considered the paladin under examining and firm eyes. "Are you sure? I won't make this offer again, Deimos."

Running a hand through his cropped hair, still relishing the freshly washed sensation, the young elf took a deep breath. "I know. And I'm sure. I just want to be able to visit my friends there."

Several beats of silence passing over the two elves, Tharsis moved his eyes over the paladin's face, searching and waiting for any hints of reluctance in his response. His eyes were genuine, his face placid and somber. However much the commander continued his deep and thorough examining, he couldn't detect a sliver of uncertainty. Having spent an immense amount of time pondering and preparing the speech to the boy, as well as playing the events he assumed would pan out following the conversation, he was baffled as to where they would move from there. He hadn't planned on it. It seemed that was a theme at parenting however.

Taking a deep breath, slowly exhaling the air in a calming manner, the elder Sin'dorei nodded in swift thought. "Alright then."

Wetting his lips and shifting slightly on the bedside as a sharp hunger pain swept through his body, Deimos carefully watched his father's face for a hint of a reaction. Easily detecting a lingering confusion and bemusement, he was also able to distinguish a small and nearly diminutive ounce of relief on a usually blank featured commander. Tilting his head as he considered the elder Sin'dorei, the paladin found a great sense of his own relief at seeing his father's acceptance of his decision. While the last two decades could never be erased or forgotten, perhaps the two elves were finally taking a step in the right direction.

Gingerly pushing himself off the bed, Tharsis immediately dove a hand into a front pocket. Turning his gaze back to his son, he pulled his hand out to display a hanging and familiar object. "Lost something?"

His eyes recognizing the ruby pendant and black chain, Deimos grinned widely as he darted a hand out and grabbed the heirloom necklace. "I left it in Murder Row when I got captured. You found it?"

Watching the paladin work the clasp around his neck, Tharsis lifted a delicate brow in thought. So it seemed the boy did have at least the sense to leave a trail behind. "A different elf did." Pausing while he felt his own stomach plead for the delicious smelling meal waiting below them, he felt his gaze firm as a thought swept across his mind. "If you would've listened to me, and never stepped foot in Murder Row, this never would have happened."

The heavy and boring stare erupting a scarlet flush on his cheeks, Deimos hung his head at the words. It seemed escaping the lecture wasn't going to happen. "Yeah I know. I'm sorry."

Eying the boy's immediate acceptance of a subdued and obedient role, the display making him both pleased yet sick, the commander briefly considered continuing into a lengthy discussion pertaining to his lack of responsibility and utter disregard for rules. The sweet aroma of the delicate meal awaiting them, however, swiftly convinced him to prolong the lecture until nourishment was found. Considering the extended amount of sleep his son got, Tharsis could only fathom how hungry he was.

"We'll talk after dinner," Tharsis exclaimed as he began to make his way towards the silk covered doorway. His mind was still buzzing with the prospective route to take the lecture, as well as deciding on a proper punishment; most likely in the form of extended training hours and a long grounding. The proper time to execute both would have to wait. The boy obviously still feeling the residual effects of the maladies that plagued his spent body, the warrior would heed the time required to ensure he was safely brought to full health; both mentally and physically. While a verbal reprimand could be delivered initially, any physical punishment would have to wait.

Watching mutely as the warrior pulled back the silks and disappeared into the hall, Deimos took a deep and thoughtful breath of air. His muscles still harbored a slight twinge of discomfort to them, his limbs begged to be stretched. While he was thankful for the long hours of sleep he was granted, his body still pleaded for more reprise, the soft and comforting bed tempting him to ignore his father's unspoken order to meet him downstairs for the meal. The empty and paining hole in his stomach, however, seemed to also agree with the commander; food was top priority and sleeping could wait.

Slowly pushing himself off the bedside, his face wincing at the muscles in use, Deimos delicately began his trek to the connected bathroom. Though he could shower to awaken himself more, he had every intention on returning to the bed following dinner. Simply refreshing himself would have to suffice. And, after his father's atypical and kind words, the paladin sincerely doubted the elder Sin'dorei would complain about his appearance.

Sighing to himself as he pulled the thick and obscuring fabric to the side, the boy considered the conversation with his father. It was perhaps the first time in many years that he could recall the harsh commander allowing his strong facade to weaken in allowance of thoughtful words; and the feeling of having knowledge of the unknown lifted a heavy burden off the young paladin's mind. No longer did he suspect his father despised his presence immediately, but it seemed he was rather excited for getting a son. Though he knew little in terms of the history pertaining to his mother, only hearing from others that there were complications at his birth that caused her death, the small information he gained he viewed as vast. While he didn't question Tharsis about her presence or her qualities, a small imploring part of him was always tempted.

But the most profound meaningful words weren't about his mother or knowledge about her enigma identity; it was when he expressed his wish and desire for the paladin to be happy. A small smile growing on his face, Deimos glanced into the large mirror hanging on the bathroom wall. He wasn't sure what had caused his father to come to such a revelation, his kind words and behaviors in the past few weeks coming to mind, yet he didn't care. For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt overly content and comfortable in the commander's usually overbearing presence. During the past week and his trying experience, he came to realize how much he truly turned to the elder elf for not only safety and refuge but also guidance and support. He clung onto the teachings and words the elder elf gave him, heeding them typically to perfection. And though he loathed the suffocating rules and dictatorial decrees he set in place, Deimos was ready to accept them with his father's novel caring traits.

Grinning as he ran his fingers over the delicate ruby necklace, his digits grazing over the etched Thalassian symbol, he thanked the Light for having him walk into Murder Row that day.